


The one where Killian and Emma dance and say sweet things

by hannahhoppers



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, Fluff, Insecurities, One Shot, Wedding Reception, dance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-20 00:52:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7384495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hannahhoppers/pseuds/hannahhoppers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the prompt "Wanna dance?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	The one where Killian and Emma dance and say sweet things

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the show or the characters, so I'm playing with them. Adam and Eddy have such nice toys. Unbeta'd. Kudos and comments if you enjoy!

Music was pounding in all of their ears as the night wore on, lights flashing and dark silhouettes twisting and jumping. The party was fantastic; the open bar might have been a mistake on Ruby and Dorothy’s part. Will Scarlet had certainly taken advantage of it. 

 

“Oi, pirate!”

 

Killian heaved a sigh. “I’ll be right back,” he murmured, pecking Emma’s cheek before getting up to talk to the drunk man. “What is it, Scarlet?”

 

“Lose the hook, wouldja, mate? It’s creepin’ me out.”

 

“You’re drunk, mate, go home,” he said, taking a deep breath. It wouldn’t do to lose it.

 

“I’m fine,” the other man drawled, stumbling back towards the bartender and her bottles of whiskey. Killian took another deep breath, counted to ten, and tried to forget the incident as he returned to his conversation with Emma. After a few minutes of quiet conversation, she asked,

 

“Hey, what did Will say?”

 

“It was nothing, love.” She searched his eyes.

 

“No, something’s bothering you. What’s wrong, Hook?” His breath hitched.

 

“He informed me that I ought to ‘lose the hook,’ because it was ‘creepin’ him out.’”

 

“That little-”

 

“Calm down, Swan. It was nothing. He’s completely drunk. Probably won’t even remember it in the morning.”

 

“He still shouldn’t’ve-”

 

He cut her off again. “It’s fine, love. I promise.” He offered her a smile. “Rum?” She laughed and nodded as he pulled a flask out of his suit jacket. They eventually stood and mingled with the other couples there. Try as he might to enjoy the evening, Will’s comment was always at the front of his mind. 

 

After five years, eight crises, and hundreds of moments, he finally felt like a part of Storybrooke. Like he was accepted, like he belonged. He thought the townspeople didn’t mind the hook, because it was just part of who he was. Now, he couldn’t help but wonder if anybody else was unnerved by his appendage. 

 

“Hook?” The first time she said it, he hadn’t noticed. “Killian.”

 

“Sorry, love, I don’t know where my head is tonight. What were you saying?”

 

“I was asking if you wanted to go back home. You seem a little out of it.”

 

“I’m fine, love. Honestly.”

 

“You aren’t still worrying about what Scarlet said, are you?”

 

“Well, I…”

 

“Oh, Killian.” She picked up his hand and rubbed her thumb against it, then picked up the metal extremity hanging limply by his side. She kissed the curve of it. “I like the hook.” She kissed him on the lips. “And I love you.”

 

“I love you too, love.” They embraced for a moment, before they were interrupted by Archie, of all people, calling out,

 

“Alright, everybody, the night is coming to a close. We should let Ruby and Dorothy get out of here, so let’s play one last song. A waltz I believe we’re all familiar with.” The first melodic notes trickled out of the speakers.

 

“Shall we dance?” He asked her. She giggled and he took her hand, leading her onto the dance floor. “Don’t think the irony is lost on me that you’re wearing a red dress.”

 

“I was hoping you’d notice.” She let him guide her around the dance floor, spinning and gliding in all the right places.

 

“Certainly.” They danced, not talking, for a short time. “And you’re sure that ball was your first dance, love?” She giggled. 

 

“What can I say? I guess dancing’s in my blood.”

 

“I suppose so.” The song drew to a close and they vacated the dance floor with the other couples. They tried to help clean up, but Dorothy shooed them away. So, his arm around her shoulder, they walked out of the converted city conference hall. They didn’t want to head back home just yet, though they both smiled at the word. 

 

While they walked to the docks, he regaled her with a story from his pirating days. He didn’t miss her shiver, a wintry chill carried in the early spring breeze. He pulled off his suit jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She cast an adoring gaze his way, and grinned when he pressed a kiss to her temple. They found a bench and snuggled against each other. They talked for hours, telling stories and joking and wondering about their future. 

 

“I like the way the ocean smells,” she whispered against his shoulder.

 

“So do I, love.” He took in a big breath. It smelled familiar. If you had asked him even two years ago, he would’ve said it smelled like home. But now, he knew, home smelled like hot cocoa with cinnamon and coconut shampoo and the slightly musky scent of the loft and _her._

 

“You smell like it,” she added. “And rum, leather, and…” she breathed him in, a big long sniff. “I’m not sure. Just you.” He smiled.

 

“Have I ever told you how bloody _amazing_ you are?”

 

“A few times, maybe,” she grinned. He planted a big, sloppy kiss on her cheek. It fulfilled its purpose; she giggled. “It’s getting late.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Do you want to go home?”

 

“Aye. Home.” As they stood up, she maneuvered around to his left side. “What are you doing, love?” He asked as she wrapped her fingers around his hook, as natural as if it were his hand.

 

“What do you mean?” He understood what she was doing. He shook his head and kissed her hair.

 

“Bloody amazing.”


End file.
